


I Like Your Honey And It Sure Likes Me

by PosseMagnet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bathroom Sex, Dirty Talk, F/M, Oral Sex, Reader Insert, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Voyeurism, unprotected sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 12:47:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8402293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PosseMagnet/pseuds/PosseMagnet
Summary: The first thing you notice about Dean Winchester is that gorgeous fucking mouth of his.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Props to [SpectacularSammy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/spectaculacularsammy/pseuds/spectaculacularsammy) for betaing this fic and getting all my missing commas sorted. Love you, bitch. ❤️
> 
> Remember: Comments and kudos feed the muse!
> 
> Title is from Candy Store Rock by Led Zeppelin.

The first thing people notice about Dean Winchester is different for everyone. His hair, his eyes, the sheer size of him, his presence, they are all worthy of note.

The first thing you notice about Dean Winchester is that gorgeous fucking mouth of his.

The cocksure grin he gives you when you saunter over to his table to take his order is framed by those perfect, lush lips.

You don't realize you're staring at them.

"You okay, sweetheart?" The mouth asks the same question twice before your eyes snap up to meet the greenest set of eyes you've ever seen.

The eyes crinkle at the corners when you answer, "Sure. What can I get you, honey?"

"A beer?" the man asks, "And two shots. Whiskey."

You can feel those green eyes on you as you make the short jaunt across the bar. This is one of those rare times that you don't at all regret the short skirt that is your work uniform, because you know your ass looks fierce in it.

The bar is nearly empty, because it's still fairly early, so it doesn't take long for you to retrieve the beer and whiskey that the green-eyed cutie asked you for.

His eyes are still on you when you return and damn if he doesn't look hungry. Not sure-could-use-a-burger hungry, but like he wants to eat you alive. You're not at all alarmed by the look, in fact your core clenches so hard a shiver rolls up your spine. He sees the movement with his predator's eyes and licks his plush bottom lip into his mouth and catches it between his teeth.

Your smile is a little shaky as you transfer the bottle and shot glasses from your tray to his table. "Can I get anything else for you, hon?"

"What's your name, sweetheart?" His voice is deep and honeyed.

You tell him your name and, grinning, ask his.

"It's Dean," he says with a wink.

The evening rolls along once the bar fills up. You and Dean continue to flirt until he makes his way over to the pool tables, which aren't in your section. You're sad, but busy, so you don't dwell on it.

It's hours later, and you turn to see him sprawled in a booth. His long arms are draped across the back of the seat, and his legs are spread, wide and welcoming.

"Well, hello there, stranger," you say with a smile.

His eyes are shiny with drink and mirth. Again they crinkle at the corners and he beams at you, showing off deep dimples. "Hi again, sweetheart," he drawls.

"The usual?" you quip.

"Sounds good."

You return with his beer and shots and once again inquire, "Can I get anything else for you?"

"Sure, sweetheart," the predatory look is back, or maybe it never left. "Mind telling me what time you get off?"

You smirk down at him and playfully answer, "Well, my shift ends at midnight, but when I _get off_ , well that's a different story."

Picking up on your emphasis and the innuendo he replies, "An hour, you say? Until you _get off_."

Made bold by his flirtation you stoop and put your lips right next to his ear and whisper against his skin, "God, I hope so."

You turn and walk away without seeing the effect your words have on him.

Forty five minutes later it's almost the end of your shift and Dean is still planted in the booth where you left him. He's still smiling and looking like sex in a flannel shirt.

You stop by his booth again, retrieve something from the pocket of your apron, and press it into his hand, then return quickly to the front of the bar.

He unfurls his fingers to find your panties clutched in his fist. Black lace and satin, still warm from your body and slightly damp from your arousal.

You lean against the bar to have a few words with your bartender. He busies off to get what you asked for, and you turn to look over your shoulder at Dean. He's staring a hole through you, your panties are raised to his face, and he's sniffing them. You lean forward a little more and arch your back, which lifts your tiny skirt enough so you know Dean is getting an eyeful. His hand falls away from his face and his mouth forms the word "fuck."

The bartender brings you what you asked for, and you situate it all on your serving tray before you turn and sashay back to the table. Dean's eyes are on the exaggerated sway of your hips, and when you stop close to him his eyes trace their way up your body, spending extra time on your breasts. The lust on his features is nearly pornographic in its intensity.

"I brought you another," you say as you set a new beer down on the table in front of him.

"Thank you, sweetheart," he salutes you with the frosty bottle.

"This round is on me," you plunk two shots down in front of him and set your tray on the table.

"What about those two?" Dean asks, gesturing to the shots that remain on your tray.

"Those are for me," you say with a wink.

"Hot damn," he says, picking up one of his shots so you can clink yours against it.

"Here's to midnight," the glasses tinkle as you make your salute.

Dean echoes, "To midnight," and downs his shot, then watches as you swallow yours in one gulp.

You point to the other shot that's waiting for you, "I'll be back for this one in ten."

With a nod he replies, "I'll be here."

The next ten minutes you spend catching up your replacement and getting things straight for the closing shift.

Dean's eyes don't leave you once the whole time.

Finally you're done, so you head over to the time clock to punch out.

Suddenly, someone steps up behind you, one hand on the wall and the other grips your stomach firmly, grinding you into a hard cock.

It's not the first time some drunk decided to get handsy, so you're prepared to drop out of the grip when a husky voice whispers against your ear, "Relax, sweetheart. I just wanted you to feel how hard you made me. Flaunting that gorgeous ass around here, your perfect little pussy peeking out from under that tiny skirt every time you bend over."

You're still facing the wall, and Dean's body covers yours, so no one can see his hand creep down to dip under your skirt.

"Dean," you breathe, clutching at his arm.

"Shit, Y/N. You're soaked. Are you wet for me, sweetheart?"

You nod, and he dips one finger between your drenched folds, making you moan.

"Fuck," he breathes into your hair, lips grazing the back of your head. "I've been thinking about what I wanted to do to you when I got you back to my room, but I can't wait that fucking long. So what do you say we start here?"

His thumb grazes your clit, and you cry out, "Yes. Oh, fuck."

He purrs in your ear, "Mmm. That's the idea, kitten."

The pressure against your back disappears, and Dean takes your hand in his, leading you toward the restrooms. He swings by his table and picks up the shots waiting there on the way.

He pushes through the swinging door to the ladies room, flips the lock and immediately backs you up against the sink. Setting the shot glasses down on the shelf beside the mirror, he grabs your ass in his huge hands and lifts you up onto the sink.

You don't have to wonder how soft his lips are anymore. He kisses you hard, pushing his tongue into your mouth to slide alongside your own. His lips are like the plushest satin, gentle, but just as insistent as his tongue.

He reaches behind you for one of the whiskey shots. He holds the glass to your lips. You open your mouth obediently and he tips the amber liquid onto your tongue. He nibbles over your throat as you swallow reflexively.

You protest when he attempts to feed the remaining shot to you, "But that ones yours."

"I've been knocking them back all night, Y/N. I like watching you swallow, picture my cock sliding down your throat."

"Please, Dean," you beg.

"Later, kitten," he licks into your mouth to steal the taste of whiskey that coats your tongue. "Right now I'm after that soaked pussy of yours."

He nudges your head back with gentle but insistent nibbles on your neck. You open your mouth and accept the last shot with a moan as Dean sucks a hickey over your jittering jugular.

Dean lifts you off the sink and spins you around so you're facing the mirror. He lifts your shirt over your head and pops the clasp on your bra, sliding it off. His dexterous fingers toy with your breasts, thumbing over your nipples with calloused fingers.

Grinding his cock against you, he holds your gaze in the mirror. "I want you to watch," his hand slips down your stomach, and slides between your legs, "I'm gonna make you come and I want you to watch yourself. And then I'm going to fuck you while you watch us."

He doesn't wait for an answer, just drops to his knees behind you.

After thumbing your skirt up over your ass, he licks down one cheek and up the other, his stubble creating a slight burn over the sensitive skin. You hear a slow inhale and your pussy chills, warming again when Dean speaks right up against it. "Fuck, kitten, you smell so god damn good," his breath is warm against you and it makes you shudder. Dean groans, then his tongue dips into your cunt.

After the initial taste Dean laps his way down to your clit. He sucks and teases at it until your knees start to wobble. He slides two fingers into your pussy and you're so wet you can feel yourself dripping when Dean starts to fuck you with his dexterous fingers.

You rock back into him, rolling your hips and moaning Dean's name. "I know, baby girl. You wanna come for me?"

"Oh, god, Dean, yes," you say. Slick with sweat, you're white-knuckling your grip on the bathroom counter. The hair at your temples is matted with sweat, your pupils are blown and your cheeks are flushed bright red. The words "Dean" and "yes" fall from your lips over and over.

"Mmm, you're close," his voice rumbles through you, clenching your muscles as he speeds his fingers inside of you. When Dean seals his mouth over your clit, flicking his tongue, vibrations course through you because he's still making that lovely bass hum.

Your orgasm crescendos and you come screaming. You're peripherally thankful that the jukebox is live and loud right now so the entire bar doesn't hear you come apart for Dean.

He doesn't skip a beat. As soon as he's tongued you through your last aftershock, he stands. You hear the clink of his belt unbuckling and his thick cock is pushing into your wet cunt.

Dean's chin glimmers with your juices, and he's sucking on his bottom lip as he watches his cock slide home inside of you. He bottoms out with a groaned curse, "Shit, Y/N. You're so fucking tight. Your pussy is still clenching, oh, fuck."

With a groan, he pulls out almost all the way and slams back into you. You cry out and let your head fall and he gives a light tug on your hair, "Nuh-uh, sweetheart." Belatedly remembering what he told you about the mirror, you lift your head again so you're watching Dean watch you.

Dean's gaze shifts regularly; he watches your face in the mirror, and he watches his cock disappear inside of you. He slows for a moment and leans back so he can see your cunt better. Dean slips his thumbs over your pussy lips, spreading you open even wider than his fat cock already has. He licks his lips again, like he's missing the taste of you.

Smoothing his hands over your back and ribs, and around to cup your breasts, Dean lifts you so you're more upright. One of Dean's hands stays on your breasts and the other trails down to circle your clit.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this, Y/N," his smoky voice murmurs in your ear. "Your body is amazing," he says, pushing your hands down as you try to self-consciously cover up. His green eyes are like wildfire, and he stares straight at you in the mirror. It's curiously intimate, because you feel as if this beautiful stranger is assessing you, as if his sly eyes are seeing right into your soul.

The eye contact breaks as another orgasm unexpectedly rips through you. Dean gasps out a curse when your pussy clenches hard around his cock.

"Ah, fuck," he huffs, out of breath. "Kitten, that was fucking sexy," he pulls out and spins you around quickly, lifting you onto the counter. "Get over here, you little minx," he lifts your knees and slides back into you with a groan.

He crowds into your space, enveloping you in strong arms, peppering you with kisses. His hands are on you, holding you tight and you welcome the bruises you know you'll have in the morning. He's kissing you like he wants to live inside of you for awhile.

Dean fucks you hard, rattling the air right out of you in screams and moans. You start chanting his name, ready to come again and his rhythm stutters, so you know he's close too.

"Dean," you bark, "I'm on the pill."

"You want..." he lets the question trail off.

"You can come inside me, oh fuck," you cry, "If you want."

"Darling, I've never wanted anything more in my entire life," he groans.

He crashes into you, sending you over the edge. You come digging your nails into Dean's back, rocking your hips to meet his.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Dean curses, bracing one hand on the mirror behind you as he comes with a grunt. He buries his twitching length deep inside you. Filling you with heat, his come pushed out by his wide cock to paint your sweat-slick thighs.

Once Dean has softened enough, he carefully slips out of you, and tucks himself back into his jeans. Tenderly, he cleans you up, cooing praise against your skin like soft kisses. He waits while you dress and arrange yourself.

"That was amazing," he flatters you with his low, gruff voice. Enveloping you in a tight hug he asks, "Will you come back to my room, Y/N?"

"Mmm," you hum contentedly against his neck. "I absolutely will. I'm supposed to be to work tomorrow afternoon, but I can call in sick, if you want."

"Holy shit, yes," he grins, "If I have any say you won't even be able to walk tomorrow afternoon."


End file.
